Bad Advice for Secret Affairs
by LASOS
Summary: Or, Love Thy Enemy. An OT AU romanic dramedy in which Han Solo never left the Imperial Navy and the Tantive IV was never captured over Tatooine. HSLO, plus the usual suspects.
1. Default Chapter

**Title: **_Bad Advice for Secret Affairs_

**Summary:** ...or Love Thy Enemy. A Star Wars Alternate Universe romantic dramedy. HSLO, as if it would be anything else from me.

**Disclaimer:** The GFFA belongs to George, any EU characters used belong to their respective authors, and the short lyrics featured at the beginning of each chapter are the properties of the songwriters/bands, and all of the above are far, far more creative than I. Oh, but Keane Solo and Kade Preiss (and, I suppose, any other OC's I manage to think up) are mine.

**A/N: **I swear, there will still be updates with MOACS and NL, but this thing is fifty pages in and has been on my computer for the last month, so I can't help it anymore. Muse is working overtime on this one.

This is an AU, that begins roughly where ANH did. Basically, it's my version of what might have happened if Han remained with the Imperial Navy and the _Tantive IV _was never captured over Tatooine.

Also, and please forgive me, but I've played a little with the ages here in order to make commissions more plausible. Instead of being ten years apart, the age gap between Han and Leia and Luke is six years. He is 25, they are 19 at the story's opening. Take that how you wish.

I'm pretty nervous about this one, so all reviews are very much appreciated and cherished. Reviewers will receive a replica DL-44 blaster and a plate of my famous bittersweet chocolate chip cookies upon submission.

Okay, then. Onward....

--

**Chapter One**: In which Imperial Lieutenant Han Solo is made an offer he can't refuse...

--

"_There's a light at each end of this tunnel, you shout; 'Cause you're just as far in as you'll ever be out; And these mistakes that you made; You'll just make them again; If you only try turning around..."  
Anna Nalick, Breathe (2AM)_

_--_

**The Imperial Academy  
Carida**

--

Her face was all over the HoloNet.

If one were male, he mused, not even necessarily human, or just appreciated beauty, then one couldn't complain. She was gorgeous. Young, perhaps, but still gorgeous. She wore her long, dark hair in a pile of braids at the back of her head in a style that was somehow loose and elegant all at once. Her features were delicate, feminine; her lips, full, enticing, her eyes, large, brown, intoxicating. And she was regal, she carried herself like a princess, which was fitting because she was; the beautiful princess of Alderaan, sole heir of the influential House of Organa, and now, at nineteen, the youngest member ever to be elected to the Imperial Senate.

She had it all: power, money, beauty, brains, a dazzling smile, and incredible diplomacy, and perhaps those were the reasons why the galaxy loved her. The fashion holos and the gossip tabloids followed her everywhere. They covered what she was wearing, where she went, what she ate, and who she was rumored to be dating. If Princess Leia wore it, he was guaranteed to see it on half of the female humans he passed on his next shore leave. The holos had followed her as a princess on Alderaan, but the coverage increased tenfold when she arrived on Coruscant to be inaugurated into the Senate last year. With all that press, he thought, you'd be crazy to try anything on her.

Except somebody had been crazy enough to try. Princess Leia's face was all over the HoloNet this particular week because there had been an attempt on her life two days ago when she was on her way home from some political hullabaloo, and the whole sickening fiasco had been caught on holo. Some sentient, a Rodian, clearly not in his right mind, had tried to shoot her. Leia was fine-untouched, even, but two of her four bodyguards took eerily accurate blaster bolts to the head and another to the chest before Coruscanti authorities were able to take the Rodian down.

The whole thing didn't sit well with him. He'd seen the footage-the Rodian was an excellent shot. He wondered if anyone besides him realized that the Rodian didn't merely miss the princess. He wasn't trying to hit her at all. And, perhaps even more interesting, the little princess, raised on a planet known for its pacifist ideologies, was as calm when the shooting began as some of the Navy's most seasoned admirals. She kept her head in the fray; she barely blinked at the first blast. He couldn't help but wonder exactly what prepared a teenage princess from a peaceful world to react to blaster fire as though she had been shot at before, but he also could not help but find it a little attractive.

But then again, he was on Carida, a respected hero and instructor at the Academy, and it was not his job to wonder about botched assassination attempts and gorgeous princesses that were probably hiding more than they would ever admit. So instead, because he was a good leader and had other things to concern himself with, he chose to force those intoxicating, molten brown eyes out of his mind.

"Boy, there's a thing or two I'd like to show that little princess. Know what I mean, eh, Solo?"

The Corellian Han Solo, who at twenty-five was the Imperial Navy's youngest ever and most highly decorated lieutenant, hid his disgusted grimace by turning back to the datapad of simulation statistics he had been reading. The plush officer's lounge was one of his least favorite places at the Academy, but he had walked into his office an hour earlier to find two protocol droids cleaning the room and had immediately left before he could get roped into any kind of conversation with them. Upon entering the lounge, however, Lieutenant Solo decided he would have gladly spent an hour talking with eight thousand droids than two minutes with the man he found splayed across one of the couches watching the HoloNet.

Lieutenant Kade Priess was one of the most objectionable humans he had met in his entire life. Somehow, for reasons that were beyond Han, the Axxillian who had come to Carida at eighteen and spent the second half of his life in the rigidity of the Navy, was still sloppy and slovenly. He reminded Han of a severely underweight Hutt with smoother skin, and his lewd, sycophantic personality was perhaps even more off-putting.

Priess was an idiot, and that wasn't just Han's opinion, though he would never be quite sure how the other man, thirteen years his senior, had ever made it to lieutenant. Han suspected it was a mere formality. After twenty years of service, Priess was entitled to a promotion, but Han seriously doubted the other man would make it any further in rank.

"She's half your age, Priess," Han countered, hoping that would be the end of the conversation. He didn't enjoy talking to Priess in a professional situation, and the man was even worse when it came to women and sex.

"Ah, that just means there's a lot she doesn't know yet. Besides, I like 'em young. They get crazy wild once they find out what they've been missing."

This time, Han could not hide his disgust. He touched the control on his chair so the viewer switched to a Smashball game and glared at the other man.

"Enough."

"What, Solo? You can't tell me you weren't thinking it, too."

"At least I'd have a chance with her," he muttered, touching the screen of the datapad and switching to a new document, finished with this conversation. From the corner of his eye, he caught Priess sneering at him and bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the ridiculous sight.

"It's easy to be an arrogant son of a bantha when you've got someone pulling the strings for you," Priess grumbled, changing the viewer back to coverage of the princess.

If he were a lesser man, Han would have been across the room and his fist would have already connected with Priess' greasy nose. Instead, the subversive retort was dancing on his tongue when he was interrupted before he could speak by the chirping of his comlink. Han settled for a trenchant grin in the other lieutenant's direction before thumbing on the device.

"Solo."

"Lieutenant, this is Ensign Pratt. Captain Ozzel has requested that you report to his office immediately."

Han suppressed a groan. He disliked the sniveling Ozzel almost as much as he disliked Priess, a situation made worse by the fact that the captain was his superior officer. Ozzel had deemed Han's commanding rise to success, golden boy status, and Corellian roguishness as arrogant and opportunistic, and took every chance to undermine the young lieutenant's authority.

Han shook his head and ran a hand across the Corellian bloodstripe that decorated the legs of his uniform. He was the youngest man ever to receive such a distinguished honor, awarded to him at age twenty after he saved an entire platoon of soldiers by safely landing a damaged and rapidly depressurizing ship over Ord Mantell. Of all of his awards, he was proudest of his bloodstripes-they reminded him of his home, and they encouraged him to push forward on his difficult days. And they helped him keep his cool around Ozzel, who, lately, had been even more brutal towards Han.

Sighing, he stood up.

"Tell him I'll be right there."

--

The datapad slid unceremoniously across the too-neat durasteel desk with a loud hiss and fell into Han's gray-uniformed lap. Casually stroking the scar on his chin, his most recent badge of honor and a souvenir from an episode involving a rather angry Wookiee and a few things he'd just as soon forget, Han picked up the datapad and scanned the open document.

"No way," he said firmly after a moment, sliding the pad back across the desk in a gesture that openly mocked and undermined his commanding officer. Grim faced, Captain Kendal Ozzel reclined further in his repulsor chair and bridged ten fingers beneath his chin in an annoyingly authoritative stance.

"You don't have a choice, Lieutenant." The tone in the captain's voice alternately infuriated Han and made him feel as though he were a child caught trying to sneak out on his swoop bike. Frustrated, Han stood from his chair and snatched the datapad off the desk again.

"This isn't my job."

"They're orders, Solo," Ozzel said dismissively, as though this were the most obvious statement in the galaxy. "They're your job."

"These were handed down from the Grand Moff," Han argued, gesturing to the datapad. "He has no control over my assignments."

At this, Ozzel offered a supercilious smirk.

"We should all be so lucky as to have the Grand Moff take a personal interest in our affairs, Lieutenant," he said, his words dripping with disdain.

The anger bubbling inside Han reached its boiling point at the captain's condescending words, but the young lieutenant wisely chose an action that would not result in his court marshaling and dishonorable discharge from the Imperial Navy. Steeling himself, Han offered a short salute before turning on one heel and stalking out of the office.

Lieutenant Solo's feet knew his destination before his head, and the angry stomp of his polished boots echoed off the wide, stark corridors of the base. Carida was the flagship of all the naval academies, and an honor just to be admitted, but it was even more of an honor to be stationed at the on-planet base and work with the institution. Valedictorian of his class, Han had been offered the commission of lieutenant and a position in the flight school after he was rewarded with the bloodstripe. The position was an honor, but Han's rapid rise to success had spawned some awful stories and earned him some unflattering nicknames from jealous subordinates and superiors alike.

Han rounded a sharp corner and slammed the controls that opened the doors to the Grand Moff's front office. The young ensign serving as the Grand Moff's secretary stood nervously in salute as Han stormed in, his blue eyes wide with awe and fear. Han favored the kid with an annoyed glance as he walked past him towards the large black doors that shielded the Grand Moff's office.

"You can't go in there," the ensign said, unsuccessfully trying to mask the quiver in his voice. Han stopped dead in his tracks and turned around slowly, a murderous expression crossing his handsome features, and the young secretary gulped audibly before he continued. "The Grand Moff isn't seeing anyone today."

"Oh, he'll see me," Han growled.

"Lieutenant Solo, I can't-"

"What's your name, Ensign?"

The tow-headed young man retreated a step before he answered Han's demand.

"Yigit, sir. Loc Yigit."

Han offered Yigit a crooked smile that was anything but friendly as he crossed his arms over his chest, the medals and decorations tinkling slightly with his movement.

"And tell me, Yigit, how long have you been stationed at Carida?"

"I just joined, sir. It's my second month at the academy."

"Second month, huh?" Han mused. "So, long enough for you to have familiarized yourself with the rules, right?"

Terrified, the ensign could only manage a nod.

"Am I right, Ensign?" The tone in Han's voice was foreboding.

"Y-Yes, sir."

"Then you've been here long enough to know that when a superior officer gives you a direct order, you follow it." It wasn't a question.

"But sir!" Yigit protested. "I am following a direct order from my superior officer. I can't let you go in there!"

Han let the dangerous smile fall from his face and narrowed his hazel eyes, and he noticed with some satisfaction that the ensign's hands were trembling out of fear of Han's reaction to his surprising outburst. Delighted, Han shifted his weight back into his heels and smirked.

"I'm not ordering you to let me in there, Yigit," he said lazily, and the ensign's blue eyes widened slightly. "But, I am ordering you to go get me a glass of water."

"Ye-You-You're what, sir?"

"Are you deaf, Ensign?" Han demanded, pointing an angry finger towards the corridor. "Water. Now!"

Startled, the ensign saluted quickly and scurried out of the office. Han let his arms fall to his sides and chuckled to himself as he palmed open the door to the Grand Moff's office.

"Damn fool kid," he muttered, stepping into the spacious but sparsely decorated chambers.

"For someone who likes orders, Han, you're not very good at following them."

Han's piercing hazel eyes flicked to the large black desk that sat before a tall transparisteel viewport at the back of the room, and found his gaze met by two equally piercing hazel eyes and a crooked smirk nearly identical to the one he wore.

"I like sensible orders, but they're pretty hard to come by in this place," Han countered.

The Grand Moff sighed, halfway annoyed by Han's jab at his academy.

"Are you just going to stand there, Lieutenant, or are you going to let me know why you've burst into my office uninvited?"

"Would you care to explain?" Han demanded, tossing the datapad given to him by Ozzel on the Grand Moff's desk before dropping akimbo into a nearby conform chair. Instead of inspecting the datapad, the Grand Moff looked as though he expected exactly this and merely tented his fingers beneath his chin as Ozzel had as he leaned back into his own chair, his lips narrowing into a thin line.

"Did you read it?" he asked passively.

Han rolled his eyes.

"Of course I read it! Why the hell do you think I'm so angry?"

"Language, son," the Grand Moff said with another sigh as he slid the datapad back towards Han, who barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes again.

"Coruscant? _Security detail_?" Han challenged, picking up the datapad and studying it once again. "They already have guards for this kind of thing. Are you out of your damn mind?"

"I would advise you to watch yourself, Han." The amusement suddenly vanished from the Grand Moff's demeanor. "You're on thin ice as it is."

Han slumped further into his chair. The Wookiees. Of course it was the Wookiees.

"So this is punishment?" he guessed. "Everyone else thinks I'm a hero, you know. Most people wouldn't take a blaster burn to the shoulder, a permanent scar on the chin, and a concussion if they're on the same side as the folks they're trying to keep from escaping. Haven't you heard? I've gotten a new nickname. They're callin' me 'Slick.'"

"You may think you have your friends fooled, _Slick_, but I know better. You'd be dead like all the other guards on duty that night if you hadn't been helping those_ things _escape."

"Those _things_," Han retorted angrily, "aren't animals, Dad."

Keane Solo, the mirror image of his son, or perhaps, his son after another thirty years and a few more medals, waved a hand dismissively.

"I had to convince your direct superiors that you didn't let those Wookiees go. You're lucky you weren't court marshaled and executed for treason. I'm doing you a favor."

Han held up the datapad and raised an eyebrow.

"You call this a favor?"

"Fine, you're doing _me _a favor."

"Because I owe you? Forget it, Dad, I'll take the court marshal."

"It's actually a very important assignment, Han."

The raised eyebrow arched higher and Han said nothing, though his silence demanded that Keane sweeten the pot.

"Do it and I'll promote you to commander."

_That _got Han thinking. He turned his attention back to the datapad, silently hoping that the screen would reveal some secret that perhaps would make this assignment more bearable. Just as he was considering the weather and women on Coruscant, his comlink began to chime, and he noted, sheepishly, that his father's eyes were demanding that he answer it. Han glanced at the device and grimaced with dismay at an all-too-familiar code staring back at him. No way he was dealing with _her _right now. Quickly, he shut off the comm and mulled over his new assignment out loud.

"The Imperial Senate has requested military guard for one Senator-Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan after an attempt on her life killed two and injured one of her personal guards two days ago..." Han trailed off for a moment, remembering the pretty face he'd just seen on the HoloNet. "Senator-Princess? Gods." He sighed and gave his father a pointed look. "I don't babysit."

"Actually," Keane began, "this is a prime opportunity for us. We have long suspected Alderaan and the royal family in particular as being sympathetic to the Rebellion."

Finally, it made sense.

"You want me to spy on her." It wasn't a question.

Keane shrugged and Han sighed, frustrated.

"I can't. I've got men here. New students."

"Lieutenant Priess can assume your position."

Han scowled.

"Priess is a moron. He doesn't know a power coupling from his ass and he's going to teach your recruits nothing but how to fly themselves into the hull of a Star Destroyer. You'll get great kamikaze pilots and not much else."

At this, Keane chuckled, and Han was almost startled by the sudden appearance of his father's sense of humor.

Almost.

"I'm sure we'll make do, Han."

The younger Solo leaned forward, elbows digging into his knees, and buried his face in his hands. Carida, and specifically his father, had thought of everything. There was no getting out of this and he knew it. He would be on the first transport to Coruscant, unless his father was amicable enough to allow Han to take his recent purchase, a battered, ancient YT-3000 model Corellian freighter he'd dubbed the _Millennium Falcon, _to the Core of the galaxy instead.

He doubted very seriously that he would be so lucky, but decided to chance it anyway.

"Can I take the _Falcon_?" He didn't look up and his voice was muffled by his hands.

"If it will fly."

Han was quiet for another moment, head still in his hands, both startled by his father's acquiescence and seething from the jibe at his ship.

"Do you want me to kill her, too, when you have what you need?" he asked at last, finally glancing up to find Keane grinning at him in an oddly menacing way that made Han's stomach twist into nervous knots.

"Of course not, son. If she's guilty, that particular privilege gets to go to her executioner."

--

**The Lars Homestead  
Tatooine**

--

To say that Owen Lars was unhappy to see the hooded figure approaching his home would be the understatement of the century. The weary moisture farmer knew that battered old speeder anywhere, and whenever it and it's battered old hermit of a pilot approached, it meant another vehement argument and weeks of making up excuses to his nephew. Frustrated, he threw down his fork and stormed from the supper table and outside the house before Beru and Luke had a chance to ask him any questions.

"No!" Owen shouted, angrily, before the speeder had come to a full stop. When it did, the driver of the speeder slowly pushed back the hood that shrouded his face, revealing an aging Obi-Wan Kenobi who looked as though he expected just this reaction.

"No?" He was almost amused, and it only incensed the moisture farmer further.

"Leave," Owen seethed. "Now."

"Owen," the Jedi master said calmly, "I need to speak with you. With Luke."

"Absolutely not."

Obi-Wan climbed out of the speeder and approached the other man cautiously.

"This is important."

"I don't give a damn how important it is! You have brought nothing but trouble to this family." Owen pointed an angry finger in the old Jedi's face. "Leave my nephew alone. Leave us alone, you no good-"

"Uncle Owen?"

The youthful voice that interrupted the argument was tentative and hopeful, and both men turned to its source. Luke Skywalker, nineteen, the blonde-haired, blue-eyed image of his father, was standing at the threshold of the house with one arm around the shoulders of a curious Beru Lars. Obi-Wan smiled reassuringly at the young man as Owen scowled.

"Go back inside, Luke," his uncle ordered.

"Owen," Beru urged quietly, nodding a small greeting towards their visitor. "Maybe we should let him in."

"Now isn't the time, Beru," he retorted, but Obi-Wan was already advancing towards Luke.

"What's going on here?" Luke asked, obviously confused by his uncle's anger at this new arrival. Obi-Wan placed a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder and smiled as though he were Luke's grandfather, or perhaps as though he were seeing a loved one he thought to be dead.

"It's good to see you again, Luke," he said, squeezing Luke's arm lightly. "You might not remember me, but my name is Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Owen glared at the other man, growing angrier with his intrusion by the second.

"Why are you here, Kenobi?" the moisture farmer demanded.

The Jedi studied Owen for a moment, then turned his twinkling gaze back on Luke.

"I'm here to talk to Luke about his sister."


	2. Chapter Two

So......yeah, sorry I've been M.I.A. Here's a peace offering. And I'm behind on replies, too, but I will slowly get back to them, I swear! Here's a blanket THANK YOU for reading for now!!!

Also, the names Leia uses for her parents are the Turkish words for mother and father, but I changed the spelling for Anne (mother) to Anae to be a little more phonetical. (In case you're wondering, it's pronounced Ah-nay for mother and Bah-Bah for father.)

--

**Chapter Two:** In which Lieutenant Han Solo is introduced to Senator-Princess Leia Organa...

--

"_Tonight I'll dream while I'm in bed; When silly thoughts go through my head; About the bugs and alphabet; And when I wake in the morning, I'll bet; That you and I will walk together again; Because I can tell that we are gonna be friends; I can tell that we are gonna be friends..."_

The White Stripes, "We Are Going To Be Friends"

--

**The Senatorial Apartments of Leia Organa  
Coruscant**

--

Senator-Princess Leia Organa liked the early mornings on Coruscant best. The lavender light of dawn was peaceful, quiet, and she felt as though she had the teeming planet-wide metropolis to herself. The mornings let her meditate on the challenges that lay ahead of her, let her absentmindedly run kilometer after kilometer on her treadmill while watching the sun rise over the horizon through the panoramic transparisteel windows in her gym. Sunsets here were nothing; the smog from billions of speeders and ships created a haze in the evenings that dulled the golds and reds of the day's end. The sunsets on Coruscant would never, could never compare to the brilliant sunsets on Alderaan, but the mornings...the mornings were a time of beauty that Leia considered all her own.

Three days after the assassination attempt at the Correspondent's Ball, her life, as she viewed it anyway, was back to normal. She thought little of the attempt--it was not the first time in her nineteen years that she had been shot at; being the daughter of a secret Rebel leader and a freedom fighter herself meant that she had seen her share of battles. Leia had for many years known how to react under fire, especially under a suspiciously public attempt where it was almost blatantly apparent the shooter was not aiming for her. Though the attempt had rattled her fellow senators and her father, she was mostly unaffected, and had resumed her usual seat in the Senate Chambers the very next day.

The attempt, however, was far from her relaxed mind this morning as she quietly took off her running shoes and padded downstairs in search of a post-workout breakfast before her aide and longtime friend, Winter Retrac, debriefed her on her day's schedule. Leia was looking forward to making herself a fruit shake with a puffed grain cake and nut butter. Though her Coruscanti apartments were large, inherited from her father and richly decorated by her appearance-conscious aunts, and she had the room, she had very few live-in staff members. Bail Organa had taught her from a young age that she should not ask someone to perform the household tasks of which she was perfectly capable of doing herself. The galaxy had always found it bizarre that the Princess of Alderaan cleaned her own room and made her own casual meals, but Bail's foresight allowed her to stay grounded and trained her for the time she had spent on remote and less-than-luxurious Rebel bases.

Leia rounded the corner to the elegant front sitting room on her way to the kitchen as she did every morning, but nearly tripped over herself, startled, as she registered the form of a handsome young man in naval uniform, sprawled almost flippantly in an overstuffed cream colored repulsor couch that sat across from the holoviewer. Next to him, frozen as though he were in the middle of a long-winded lecture, stood the powered down golden protocol droid given to her by her father. Well, given to her was probably a bit of an overstatement. It was more like a pawning off. The droid, designated C-3PO, had a very distinct personality, and it was an annoying one at that. Bail had claimed the droid would be useful to her. "You're only fluent in twenty languages, Lelila," he'd said. "More than two thousand are spoken on Coruscant. You might need a translator."

_Right, _she thought. _A translator. _She was hardly surprised that the handsome stranger had thought about finding Threepio's deactivation switch, but she was almost amused that he actually had turned him off. Seemingly satisfied with her mild shock and smug in the droidless peace, the naval officer gave her a sideways grin, and she was torn between sounding the alarm and swooning at the stranger's roguish good looks. She settled instead on crossing her arms over her chest and regarding him with a stern look.

"That's breaking and entering."

The intruder's crooked smile shifted into a delighted smirk at her first words and he stood up to greet her.

"It is not," he countered smugly. "Your droid let me in."

Leia fought the urge to roll her eyes.

"Forgive me, then. I forgot that when it involves overpowering a droid, it's _polite _breaking and entering."

He chuckled at that, a warm, resonating baritone that she found to be annoyingly seductive.

"It's not breaking and entering if you know the lift codes."

"Fine." She moved her hand behind Threepio's neck and reactivated the poor droid. "Then tell me who I need to fire for giving you access to them."

Threepio's opticals lit up as he slowly powered on, and the stranger regarded Leia with almost mournful green eyes.

"Aw, c'mon, Princess," he whined, gesturing to the droid. "Why'd you have to go and do that?"

"So I can tell him to escort you out," she muttered, but was cut off as Threepio came back online and began waving his arms frantically.

"You don't have an appointment, sir, and I cannot allow you--oh, Mistress Leia!" He looked between the princess and the stranger. "This gentleman does not have an appointment, Your Highness. I told him--"

Leia held up a hand, dismissing the droid, but her eyes never left Han's.

"Thank you, Threepio, you're absolutely right. He does _not _have an appointment. I'll see to it from here. You may go."

The handsome stranger grinned and took a step towards her as the confused droid did a double take and then left the room, and Leia noticed the red bloodstripes running down his gray fitted pants. He was Corellian, then, if her memory served her correctly, and must have been quite a hero. Red stripes were first class, and the men awarded with them were almost never alive to receive the honor. She might have been impressed, if only he hadn't been standing in her home, irreverent and unannounced.

He opened his mouth, no doubt to spout off some sarcastic comment, but he was interrupted by Winter's sudden and graceful appearance in the parlor, carrying a pink box from a nearby patisserie. As if Leia's aide's presence only served to prove his point, the man gestured to her with one long arm.

"Maybe you should think about who has access to your lift."

Leia's eyes narrowed dangerously and gestured to Winter as well.

"She is a trusted member of my staff. She lives here."

"She doesn't have the third floor balcony bedroom, does she?" he asked. "I was hoping to get that one."

"Your Highness?" Winter began tentatively, but Leia, incensed by this stranger's behavior, was already speaking.

"Excuse me? Who exactly do you think you are?" she demanded, the blood rising in her cheeks. "You think you can just walk in here--"

"Your Highness." Winter said again, louder this time, but was overruled once more as the stranger, suddenly tired of this battle of wits, pointed a finger in Leia's direction and took another step forward.

"'Who exactly do you think you are?'" he mocked. "Well that's amazingly proper royal behavior. Some princess you're turning--"

"Your Highness!" Winter shouted, coming to stand between the naval officer and the irate princess. Two sets of eyes fixed warningly on her, and Leia's white-haired aide seized on the attention she had finally commanded. "I was just on my way to let you know. This," she waved her free hand at the man, "is Lieutenant Han Solo."

Han smirked at Leia, and she fought the urge to roll her eyes.

"In light of the events a few days ago," Winter continued, "the Senate felt that additional guard would be prudent and Lieutenant Solo has been assigned to protect you until such time when the investigation concerning the attempt on your life has concluded."

Leia's eyes flew to Winter, shocked.

"That's ridiculous!" she protested. "I already have a guard! My father hired him yesterday."

"Lot of good he did you when I got here." Han muttered under his breath.

"He was up all night keeping watch," Leia snapped. "I told him to take a nap."

She advanced a step, and Winter retreated from her position between the lieutenant and the princess, whispering something about setting out breakfast before swiftly and silently disappearing from the parlor. Neither lieutenant nor princess seemed to notice, and they continued their verbal sparring as though Winter were never there.

"That wasn't very smart, Your Worship," Han informed the petite princess arrogantly. "What if something happened to you while he was napping?"

"I hardly think anyone would be stupid enough to try something with the morning rush right outside my window," she retorted.

Han shrugged.

"Morning rush would be the perfect time to try something. No one's paying any attention to what's happening in Princess Leia's apartment because they've all got their noses to the steering yokes."

Leia planted her hands on her hips glared angrily at the lieutenant.

"I have the best security system on all of Coruscant. It's impossible to disarm without the proper codes."

"A fancy security system is about as good as bantha fodder when someone wants you dead, Sweetheart. People talk. I'm pretty sure the guy who installed your system would sing me the codes if I put a blaster to his neck."

"Oh, well it seems you have it all figured out then, Lieutenant. Are you sure _you're _not here to kill me? You seem to have my assassination planned out so perfectly."

He grinned seductively and took another step forward.

"I might. 'Cept I don't think they'd be too happy with me back at Carida. It's in my best interests to keep you alive."

"Why you stuck up--" she threw her hands in the air, at a loss for insults, exasperated. "I'd rather be shot! You're not an officer, you're a mercenary!"

"Now look, sister--"

"You will _not _speak to me in that manner. If you're my guard, you're then a member of my staff and you will address me as such."

_That _got the lieutenant angry. He advanced another step, putting them just inches apart, and drew himself to his full height so she had to tilt her head almost backwards to meet his eyes.

"Hey, Your Worship," he growled, pointing a finger at her. "Let's get one thing straight. I'm here for _your_ safety, and that means that you're going to be taking orders from me, _not _the other way around!"

Leia's inner two year-old made her suddenly want to push this arrogant stranger down, and the only thing that stopped her was the fact that he appeared to be rather solid, so her shove would probably have little effect. She settled for more yelling.

"If you think for one second that I'm going to be taking orders from you--"

"If you want to live, that's _exactly _what you'll be doing," he interrupted, yelling over her.

It was then that Leia noticed that, though Winter seemed thoroughly disinterested in the battle, the din of their argument had attracted several other members of her staff. Threepio had returned, and was now standing in the threshold beside her other droid, more useful and much less annoying, a domed astromech unit designated R2-D2. They were watching the sparring intently, and Artoo was chattering in chirps and whistles as though he were commenting on every heated retort the princess and the lieutenant spouted.

The argument also attracted, to Leia's delight, the attention of the newest member of her staff, a hulking Wookiee named Chewbacca that her father had sent from Alderaan the day before. Though she had trouble understanding him, the Wookiee was a friend of the Organas and a secret Rebel, and Bail had asked him to serve as Leia's guard and protector after the failed assassination attempt. He was fairly good-natured, but he stood out as menacing, especially on lily-white, xenophobic Coruscant, and he had the unique capability of suitably terrifying anyone with whom she cared not to associate.

Smirking, secure in the knowledge that Chewie would satisfactorily scare Han witless, Leia turned back to the cocky lieutenant invading her apartment, but her jaw nearly dropped to the floor when she realized the expression on Han's face wasn't the terror she'd expected. Instead of fear, she saw surprise and respect painted on his handsome features, and he crossed the room, right hand extended, and shook the Wookiee's massive paw firmly.

"Good to see you're up and about."

Chewie responded with a quick series of barks and growls in Shriiwook that Leia's neophyte grasp on the language had no hope of translating, but the words seemed to make Han almost blush.

"It was nothing," he said with a shrug.

Finally, Leia had the presence of mind to click her jaw shut, but she was still gazing at the lieutenant rather stupidly.

"You know him?"

Han turned back to her and raised an eyebrow, like he'd forgotten she was still there.

"Yeah, I do."

"Well?" she demanded. "Are you going to tell me _how?_"

Han rolled his eyes and looked pointedly at the Wookiee.

"Wonderful girl," he told Chewie. "Either I'm going to kill her, or I'm beginning to like her."

"I thought it was in your best interests to keep me alive," Leia snipped sarcastically.

"I'm starting to change my mind."

Before she could bite out a retort, Chewie enthusiastically interrupted with a story of barks and growls that she couldn't understand, and she looked between Han and Threepio to translate. Han said nothing, so Threepio provided her with the answer.

"Chewbacca says that Lieutenant Solo recently rescued him and a group of thirty other Wookiees from a slave ship bound for the Kessel spice mines that was docked overnight at the Imperial check station at Carida."

There was no point in concealing the shock on her face, so Leia didn't even try. She studied the lieutenant, wide-eyed, but he just shrugged sheepishly. And then, something clicked.

"That's why you're here?" she guessed. "Babysitting isn't really the kind of assignment that goes to decorated lieutenants."

"Sure. That's probably why I'm here."

"I'm surprised you weren't court marshaled for treason."

He waved a hand.

"Yeah, well."

Lieutenant Han Solo was clearly uncomfortable with this newfound attention; no doubt, he preferred the verbal sparring. Non-human slavery wasn't technically sanctioned by the Republic, but it also wasn't really a punishable offense. She knew that slave traders docked at the Carida check station with their sentient cargo in tow all the time and were waved on as though they were hauling nerf steaks or bantha feed. It was truly admirable that Han would be willing to risk his commission and even his life for a few Wookiees that were generally considered to be of no consequence.

Except...except that it was also truly suspicious that Han not only was not dishonorably discharged from the Navy, but had also suddenly appeared in her apartment under pretense of being her guard. His presence here meant two things: one, someone high up was pulling a few strings to keep him from getting in trouble, and two, he was here to spy on her. She had every right to be wary of him, but she had been stupid to be immediately on the defensive when she saw him in her parlor. It made her seem like she had something to hide, which she did.

"Solo," she said slowly. The name was familiar, was coming into focus from some foggy memory in her mind. "Wait, any relation to Keane Solo? The Grand Moff of the Carida system?"

Han sighed and nodded.

"Father?"

"Yeah."

"I've heard of you. You're something of a prodigy. Youngest lieutenant ever? And aren't you one of only two or three people to be awarded with the first class Corellian bloodstripes while you're still alive?"

"It's five people, but yes."

Leia raised an amused eyebrow.

"Would I be right in assuming that your illustrious and awe-inspiring position, then, is due in part to nepotism?"

Han scowled at her, and she concealed a smile behind her hand. He'd been in her apartment all of fifteen minutes, but she could already tell that he was the kind of man who got where he was out of sheer will and shirked the mantle of his family name at every opportunity. After all, she knew the feeling.

"No, you would not, Princess."

"I didn't think so."

He narrowed his eyes, but the amused hint of molten gold that suddenly appeared in his hazel irises gave him away. He got it.

"You hear that as much as I do, Your Highnessness?" Han asked.

The audacious play on her title was so unexpected and so ridiculous that Leia couldn't help but laugh. The man before her might be irreverent, might even be a threat to her, but there was an instant spark between them, an instant connection. They were dangerously, dangerously similar.

"A senator at nineteen? What do you think, Lieutenant?"

Han grinned again, a devastatingly handsome crooked smile, then for the first time seemed to notice that the young woman standing before him was, in fact, a woman. Leia hadn't bothered to change from her exercise gear after her morning run because she'd assumed she was more or less alone in her apartment, and was now in front of this relative stranger still flushed from her workout. Her hair was pulled back in a long braid that was no doubt coming loose, and she was wearing fairly small navy running shorts and a skintight, long sleeve white shirt. Though it was by no means the most revealing thing she could be wearing, he no doubt was enjoying the view of her shapely legs and slim silhouette.

The grin shifted into an appreciative smirk, and Leia was immediately glad that her cheeks were still red from her workout so he wouldn't the embarrassed blush that crept up her neck.

"Dunno, Sweetheart. Looking like you do, I'd say people think you slept your way to the top more than they think daddy got you the job."

Her jaw dropped open again, as seemed par for the course when dealing with this Lieutenant Solo, and immediately all good feelings she'd had about him evaporated. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Winter reenter the room, only to realize that Han and Leia were about to go another round and backed out quickly. Chewie chuckled softly at either Han's comment or Leia's reaction, she couldn't be sure, and Artoo whistled as Threepio let slip a quiet "Oh dear." Incensed, she drew herself to her full and not entirely intimidating height and Han shifted as though bracing himself for another tirade.

"Why you pompous, obtuse bantha breeder! How dare you suggest such a thing to me in _my home?_"

"Hey, Your Worship--"

"Let's get one thing straight, Flyboy," she threatened menacingly, pointing a finger in his face. "I don't know what kind of training they give you in the Navy, but if you're living in my house, then you will treat me with respect and dignity, got it?"

She didn't wait for an answer, but then again, it was a rhetorical question. As soon as the words left her mouth, she was storming past him in the direction of her bedchamber, muttering angrily under her breath about half-brained assassination attempts that get people too keyed up. Han stared after her, slack-jawed, frustrated by the tiny princess and at the same time enjoying the view as she stomped away. When she was out of earshot, he raised an eyebrow to the amused Wookiee, then scrubbed his face with his hands.

"Kreth," he muttered to no one at all. "No commission is worth this."

--

**The Chalmun's Cantina  
Mos Eisley, Tatooine**

--

Luke Skywalker wasn't sure if it was the thick spice smoke that choked the air in the dim cantina or maybe the fresh knowledge that the first nineteen years of his life had been a lie that was clouding his mind, but he felt as though he were in a walking daydream. Twelve short hours ago, he was sitting down to dinner with his Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen, prepared to once again suggest to his uncle that it was time for him to submit his application to the Imperial Academy. Now he was suddenly a Jedi padawan to Obi-Wan Kenobi, suddenly the twin brother of the Princess of Alderaan and the son of the Empire's second in command, and suddenly standing at the bar of a seedy Mos Eisley cantina with a man that he once thought was a strange old hermit, looking for a pilot to take them both to Alderaan.

It was quite a bit for him to comprehend.

He was vaguely familiar with Darth Vader, having seen holos of the man during in his history lessons in standard school. Luke had been surprised to learn that Vader was even capable of fathering children; he had always viewed the ruler as more of a breathing droid and less of a human. The fact that he had a sister, a _princess_ sister, was even more difficult to understand, but Obi-Wan kept assuring him that he would explain everything when they got to Alderaan.

Luke glanced to his belt, feeling the unfamiliar weight of the silver-handled lightsaber that dangled at his hip. He was a Jedi, but the full weight of that power still held little meaning. From what he remembered from school, the Jedi had been purged not long after the Clone Wars because they were plotting to overthrow the Republic. To be discovered a Jedi meant a sentence of certain death, and it was a concept that, at the moment, was not entirely appealing to the young moisture farmer.

"Come with me," Obi-Wan said quietly, appearing at Luke's left as if out of nowhere and startling him from his thoughts. "I think I may have found a pilot."

Luke followed the old man to a round booth at the back of the cantina, and they sat down across from two scruffy-looking humans who could not have been much over twenty-eight. The taller of the two smirked as they were seated.

"I hear you're looking for a ride."

Obi-Wan nodded.

"That's right. We need passage to Alderaan."

The green-eyed man glanced between the farmboy and the old hermit.

"Just passage, that's it?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan confirmed. "We'd like to leave as soon as possible."

The two pilots glanced at each other, then the one who had been doing the talking nodded.

"Okay, we're interested. Alderaan's pretty far, and we don't like to get near the Core Worlds if we can help it, but we'll give you a break because you seem like easy cargo. Three thousand."

Luke felt his jaw drop at the exorbitant number that the pilot threw out and was ready to protest when Obi-Wan pulled a credit chip from inside his tunic and tossed it on the table.

"Done."

The taller pilot picked up the chip and inspected it, then handed it to his friend, who pocketed it.

"Great," he said. "You've got yourself a ship. My name's Wedge Antilles, and this is my co-pilot, Wes Janson. We fly the _Prodigal_, docking bay thirty-nine. We can leave now if you're ready."

--

**The Senatorial Apartments of Leia Organa  
Coruscant**

--

Still fuming as she entered her large suite, Leia furiously yanked the braid out of her long hair and set about slamming clothes onto her bed until she had settled on the day's outfit.

"Impossible man," she seethed, tossing a white silk tunic dress and wide cream colored sash on top of the mountain of rich brown and ivory pillows at the head of her bed. Han was under her skin, had gotten there almost too quickly, and she never before remembered being so indescribably frustrated with one person. She plunged into her large closet, searching for a pair of cream colored ballet flats, so wrapped up in her anger that she didn't hear her comm until it was on its last chime. She flew to her desk, accidentally pulling three evening gowns off their hangers as she got tangled up in her hurry to answer the call.

"Hello?" Leia answered breathlessly, immediately regretting slapping on the video setting as the blue image of her father appeared before her. She was certain she looked frightful.

Bail Organa probably thought the same. He raised a puzzled eyebrow.

"Lelila, are you all right?"

She ran her hands over her hair in an attempt to smooth it and nodded quickly.

"I'm fine, Baba. I just, ah--wait, why are you calling now? It's," she glanced at the chrono on her wrist, "0515 in Aldera."

As the time dawned on her, Leia's blood suddenly ran cold. Because of the three-hour time difference between her home on Alderaan and her home on Coruscant, Bail almost never commed until mid-afternoon. If he was calling this early, then that could mean--

"It's not that, Leia," Bail said quickly, cutting off her train of thought. Clearly, the expression on her face had betrayed her. Leia let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding and nodded for her father to continue. "Carlist got me up to tell me that there has been a Naval officer assigned to your personal guard."

_Has there ever, _she thought sarcastically.

"Yes. He arrived a few minutes ago." She lowered her voice despite the fact that she knew her chambers were almost soundproof. "He's Keane Solo's son."

Bail rubbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger at his daughter's words. The situation was more serious than he thought.

"You can't meet with Schafe Oxel today," he said after a moment.

"But Baba!" Leia protested immediately.

"Leia, you _can't_. They're suspicious, that's the only reason why they sent _Keane Solo's son _to you. You cannot be careful enough. I'm pulling you off this meetup. Targeter can do it. No one suspects her of anything."

If she were any younger, Leia perhaps would have stuck out her lower lip and pouted at her father's words. But since she was nineteen, almost twenty, such childish reactions were not an option, and what's more, her father was absolutely right. Han would be watching her carefully, but not Winter. If Leia made one wrong move, it would be over for Alderaan, but Winter was innocent and wraith-like and perhaps the least suspicious member of her personal staff because she had such a unique stealth-like, almost forgettable quality. As long as Han was around, it looked like Leia would have to pass her mantle of responsibility in the Alliance to her white-haired aide.

"You can't be seen associating with Mon on anything other than what is directly related to the Civil Liberties Committee," Bail continued. "If they suspect us, then they suspect Chandrila. Also keep your visits with Pooja Naberrie strictly social and in public. And don't acknowledge Garm Bel Iblis as anything other than a colleague. I know he doesn't get along well with the Solos."

"I do that anyway, Baba," Leia reminded him. "It just looks like I can't be sneaking out to meet with them in the middle of the night any longer."

"I'll get them all a message today. Have Winter take your meeting with Oxel. She can reschedule it for 1900 and you can take Solo to dinner."

"He knows Chewie," she said, suddenly recalling that interesting tidbit about the lieutenant's recent past. "Han was the guard that freed the Wookiees at the Carida checkstation. He was the one that Chewie had to shoot and knock out so it looked like he was overpowered."

Bail frowned, mulling over this new information.

"Hmm. I assume that he'll be accompanying you here for your debut in two weeks?"

"I don't see how I could convince him not to come. If he's truly spying, where better to do it than the palace?"

"I'll see to it that he's seated with us at the head table. That may allay some suspicions."

Leia nodded, not terribly concerned with the fanfare that would be surrounding her twentieth birthday and official debut as the heir to the Alderaani throne. In her mind, there were things more pressing than ancient traditions and ostentatious parties, though she knew that there weren't many on Alderaan who shared her view.

"How's Anae?" she asked quietly. "Should I come home this week?"

Bail sighed sadly and shook his head.

"She's the same, Lelila. I don't think you need to come home earlier than you planned. She knows you're working hard on the slavery bill and that you need to be there as long as you can. You know your mother. She would hate it if she knew you were making yourself less just to be with her."

"That's ridiculous, Baba. I wouldn't be making myself _less, _I would be cherishing what little time I have left with her."

"She doesn't like to think of it like that. Come home when you originally planned. If you finish the draft this week, you can send it to the committee and work on revisions from Aldera after your debut. The doctors are still saying a year. You still have time."

Leia nodded slowly after a long moment.

"Okay. Tell her I love her. And I love you, too, Baba."

"I love you, my Lelila," Bail agreed. "Be careful."

"I will. Organa out."

--

After Leia stormed off to her room, her aide Winter, who was quickly proving to be the more gracious hostess, showed Han to his new quarters on the second floor, one level below the princess'. His suite was large, consisting of a large antechamber containing three plush, deep brown repulsor chairs and a holoviewer and leading into a rounded bedroom with a panoramic viewport and full refresher recessed to the left through two closeted walls. The whole suite was decorated in the rich creams, browns, and pops of turquoise and crimson that were found throughout what he had seen so far of the apartment. The linens on his bed were of some of the finest silk he'd seen since his last visit to his grandmother's home on Corellia, and the whole suite was certainly an unfamiliar luxury compared to the spartan Naval accommodations that he had made his home for the past eight years.

Han tossed his small pack haphazardly onto the oversized bed, resolving to take an hour later in the day to move the _Falcon _to Leia's private bay and retrieve the clothing he'd left on board. Grabbing his commlink from the bag, he sauntered out into the living area and flopped into one of the comfortable chairs, flipping to the latest Smashball scores as he keyed in his father's direct comm code. Keane answered after half a chime, as though he had nothing to do but sit and wait for his son's call.

"Are you there?"

Han rolled his eyes, thankful that he had set the call to voice-only.

"Yeah, Dad, I'm here. She definitely wasn't thrilled, but her aide's moved me into a suite in the apartment so I should be able to keep a real close eye."

"Good," Keane replied. "If the Organas are involved in the Rebellion, they're going to be smart about it. She's going to cover her tracks. You need to be watching the smallest details, son. See if you can get access to her computer terminal. Watch her during meetings. They could have developed a code. It could look like nothing."

"Okay, okay. Dad, I get it. I may never have spied on anyone before, but I do know what I'm doing."

"I'm sure you do, Han," Keane said dismissively. "Oh, before I forget, Wilhuff Tarkin has invited us out to Endor next month for a personal tour of the new mining station he's commanding. Are you interested in joining us? It would only draw you away for two, three days tops. We could put someone else on your assignment while you're gone."

_Why the hell didn't you just put someone else on this assignment in the first place, then? _Han thought bitterly. Touring some overrated mining station sounded to him about as appealing as spending the afternoon with Leia's protocol droid, but considering that his other option _was _spending the afternoon with Leia's protocol droid, it certainly couldn't be worse.

"Yeah, sure, I'll go."

"I'll let Wilhuff know you're coming. He'll be pleased."

Han almost snorted at that. It was hard to imagine Grand Moff Tarkin pleased about anything. The man's cheekbones would probably shatter if he so much as cracked a smile.

"I'm sure he will."

"Oh, and Han, you forgot to forward your office comm to your personal line on Coruscant. Your inbox here is filling up, so I had Yigit check your messages for you. It seems that Bria Tharen has called twice and would really like to speak with you."

There was a reason why Han had "forgotten" to forward his office calls, and she was his ex-girlfriend, Bria Tharen. She didn't have access to his new Coruscanti line, and he truly preferred to keep it that way.

"Well, you can go ahead and order Yigit to throw those messages away. I don't need to talk to her."

On the other end, Keane sighed audibly.

"Han, I really thought that you'd gotten over this. It's been more than a year and she made one little mistake."

"You call sleeping with my best friend while I was stationed at Kuat _one little mistake_?"

"She's a very nice girl, son, and I'm sure she's very sorry about what happened. Don't you think it's time to stop hating her and start acting like an adult? After all--"

"Yeah, Dad," Han interrupted sarcastically. "I get it. After all, Tharens are huge weapons contractors and their relationship with the Navy is vitally important. Listen, I'm already playing one of your political games, so I'm not very interested in playing another. And besides, Dad, I don't _hate _Bria, I just don't _care_ about her. I feel nothing for her. Not anger, not longing, not any more of those twisted little emotions, so I would appreciate it if you wouldn't try to make me a main character in this week's holosoap. I'm sure the Navy and Tharen Technologies will get along just fine without me."

Keane chuckled in that way that somehow made Han feel like a seven year-old all over again. It was infuriating.

"I'm sure we will. But think on it all the same. Comm me when you've got news on our princess."

"Fine."

"Good. Solo out."

The connection was severed before Han had a chance to reply, and he sighed heavily and tossed the device on the chair to his right. As he sank back into his seat, he heard the shower in Leia's grand bedroom directly above him activate and was suddenly assaulted with images of the pint-sized, sharp-tongued, beautiful potential traitor all soapy and wet and naked. Frustrated with his malfunctioning mind, he shook his head furiously and forced himself, rather unsuccessfully, to focus on the Smashball highlights.

It was going to be a long assignment, indeed.


End file.
